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Certificate of Recognition
Mountains Beyond Mountains Poetry Contest

Poem by Julia Calagiovanni

“Dear John” 

You could have been

My brother, nephew, cousin.

But you happened to live in Haiti.

And you happened to have something called

“nasopharygeal carcinoma.” 

But that just means

cancer.

And that meant

visas, and forged documents,

and a helicopter, and a medivac.

And money. 

It wasn’t about the money:

It was more about your mother,

who brought you

over the dirt road

thin and weak

to the hospital. 

And so,

he settled you in a clean white bed in Boston

with lots of toys.

(Where you tried to call your mother on a broken toy phone.

So he brought your mother too.) 

After it all, John, you died.

(He knew you might.) 

But, John, you died in a clean white Boston bed.

(dreaming, perhaps, of home in Haiti)

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